Just For Now
by DivergingFangirl5
Summary: Four dies during Insurgent. Peter is grieving over the death of his father and Tris is staring at the chasm. Pretty depressing, huh? Alcohol is there to lift the mood. And Peter's penis. Rated M for smut and alcohol. A Petris lemon.


**So here's a Petris lemon for all you Petris shippers. I know there isn't much fanfics about Peter and Tris but that's what I'm here for. ;) Enjoy :)**

The water in the chasm splashed against the rough rocks. Some of it got on my face, making it glisten in the moonlight. My hair was damp too. I really don't know why I've been stood here all this time. Staring at the water. The spray of liquid stuck to my eyelashes, but I did not flinch. Not once. The railing was aggressively cold against my elbows. I don't know why it gets so cold at night. It just does.

Like bodies.

If he died in the morning, the light would have made him stay warm for longer. Until the point where the coldness would finally stop his heart.

Everyone got back to Dauntless headquarters when the sun was still up. By everyone I mean me, Tori, Christina, Uriah and Peter. The Dauntless traitors were chasing us across the city. I thought they'd stop. But they didn't. No matter where we went, they were on our heels. And that's how it happened. I heard a gunshot.

Jeanine was murdered at Erudite and her body was brought back to Dauntless by our soldiers. You can hear the muffled shouting coming from the hall where they are probably celebrating her death. I'm not there. Instead I am near the chasm.

"Not gonna jump, are you?" I heard a familiar voice. Unmistakably, Peter.

I don't know, am I? Why am I here?

His footsteps were slow, but in no time he was standing next to me, copying my moves. "I'm sorry about Four."

Oh great, a reminder. Just what I need. I blink away the hot tears that are gathering at the back of my eyes.

I don't answer. What am I supposed to say?

I feel cold glass being pressed against my arm. I look down to see a bottle half-full with yellow liquid. Peter is offering the bottle. Without hesitation, I take it from him and drink a mouthful of alcohol. It burns it's way into my body and I cringe.

At this point you'd think Peter would make some sort of typical joke about Stiffs drinking, and how it's unusual. But he doesn't.

"That's gross." I manage to mumble, and I feel Peter smirk next to me as he speaks. Yet I take another swing.

"What were you expecting? Milk?" He leans in further, looking down at the water with me.

I don't even roll my eyes. Carefully, I give him the bottle and watch as he drinks some of the suspicious liquid.

"Y'know, people die everyday." He says, "My dad died today."

"Aren't you supposed to be weeping?" I glare up at him and he smiles slightly, shaking his head. This is the first time I bother to scan over his features. His face looks swollen. He hasn't slept. And was probably crying.

"I got over it." Liar. Who knew a Candor could lie that easily? He takes another swing from the bottle and I notice that it is almost empty. "There's plenty more where that came from." Peter gestures to the bottle and steps away from me. I look up. "Coming?"

We walk along the corridors of Dauntless, me looking down at my feet and Peter glancing up at the ceiling every now and then. I have no idea where we're going. But it feels good to just walk. Without any purpose. Idle.

We come across an unsupervised Dauntless kitchen. Not surprising. There are knives lying around on the floor. Some blood spots on the walls. If I see any more blood, I am going to be sick.

"Look." I follow to where Peter's finger is pointing. There are about a dozen bottles on a metal table. Never opened. So old that I can actually see some dust gathering. He puts down the empty bottle and replaces it with a full one, opening it with one smooth motion. I take it from him immediately and drink.

I don't know how I managed to get up on a table, but I did. We're sitting there, side by side, taking turns to drink. Not saying anything. The alcohol makes the walls spin a little and I lean on my arm for support.

"You were so fucking frustrating." His words take me aback.

"What?" I furrow my eyebrows at him and he turns his head to look at me for a second.

"During initiation." He shakes his head. "I came in here after you came first." He lifts the bottle up. "If this helps with anger, it should help with grief."

"I thought you weren't grieving." I raise my eyebrows at him and take the bottle to sip some alcohol.

"I'm not. You are." Lying again.

After what feels like an hour of silence, we finish two bottles. I shook my head when it was Peter's turn to give me the drink, and he stopped too after another couple of swings. I couldn't help but lie down fully on the table when the walls started spinning around me. My legs are swinging over the edge on the table as I focus on my breathing. In. Out.

Suddenly I feel Peter's fingers tracing the outline of my bird tattoo and open my eyes to look up at him. He missed a few days of shaving, therefore there is a little stubble on his face. I don't know how, but it makes him look innocent. His eyes are following the movement of his fingers and soon enough they end up in the middle of my chest. But I don't stop him.

"Do you ever wish you could just forget?" He asks, staring down at my chest.

"All the time." My mouth goes dry and I lick my lips to gain some moisture. I place my hand on top of his where he left it. On my heart. Or my zipper. And then his lips are on mine.

If I was more sober, I would punch him in the face. But I'm not. And Tobias is dead. And I just don't stop him from kissing me.

His mouth travels down my neck in a rough motion. Not so different from his punches. But different enough. I lay still for a moment before I twist my arms around his body and launch my weight on him. He rolls over onto his back on the table and I straddle him without thinking. My lips meet his again as I run my hands up his shirt, tracing the definite abs I find.

With my eyes closed, I can feel him unzipping my vest and sliding it off my shoulders quickly. The cold air hits my skin like a thousand of needles so I press myself against his warm body, my lips never leaving his.

Peter's hands are making their way up my sides and towards my chest. I can feel him knead what little breasts I managed to grow and whimper into his mouth. It's too late to stop now. Why are we doing this? "I need this." He whispers. Yep, there's my answer.

His hard bulge pokes though his trousers and I pull away from the kiss to look down at his wild eyes. His glistening lips are parted when I lean down to kiss him again. Before I know it, his shirt is off. I can tell because when I press my chest against his, his skin burns mine. That's one of the differences between our bodies. He generates heat. And I am as cold as the Abnegation stones in the bowl of the Choosing Ceremony.

Things happen in a giant blur. That would be the alcohol. I notice that he's undone his trousers so that only his dick is showing. I don't blame him. It is cold in here. I let him undo my pants and slide them down to my ankles before straddling him again. Something pulls me towards him. An urge.

I gasps loudly when I feel his mouth around my nipple and grip the back of his head. "Peter..."

Lazily, I use one hand to slide down my panties and let his other hand help me get rid of them. They probably got torn, I don't know. I don't care.

I notice that my eyes were closed the whole time so I open them to see him staring up at me in what can only be classified as amazement. Is he as drunk as I am? Or not?

"Tris, you're so beautiful..." No, he's definitely drunk. He just used my name. His loud mouth gets on my nerves so I attack it with my kisses.

We kiss until I feel his hands pushing down on my hips to slide me down on his length. That's when I feel the pain. "Oh, fuck." I gasp and jerk my hips up slightly, but he inserts himself fully without stopping.

He widens his eyes the next time he looks at me. "Shit." I feel his hand rubbing one of my hips. I think I mistake his look of amusement for worry. Or do I? "Are you a virgin?"

Tobias and I never got to be this intimate. Something was always in the way. Of course I'm a virgin. I bet Peter is getting a good kick out of this. A typical Stiff.

I try to reassure him by moving my hips in inexperienced ways but my yelps of pain overcome that. "Don't make me stop."

He obeys and I feel him plant his feet on a chair near the table before he lifts his hips up to meet mine. I'm embarrassed by the sounds that are coming out of my mouth, but I think Peter finds them arousing when he moans back. Soon enough, I feel no pain and pleasure takes over me. God, he's big. I can hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and tilt my head back as I close my eyes.

"Fuck." I hear Peter hiss when I start to get used to the rhythm. It feels natural. And for a second I forget about my pain, my grief. I forget about Tobias. All that matters is what's here now. And I don't care what happens after. Just now.

His nails drag down my thighs when I feel him spill inside me. There is a red trail down my legs. He's not afraid to hurt me. I like that. I moan loudly for effect when he stops thrusting and lays down panting on the table. I lie down on his chest and catch my breaths up to his.

"I'm so glad you're single."

I smirk.

**Please review and tell me what you think :)**


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